


Mirror Mirror lie to me

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix-It, Gabriel Being Gabriel, M/M, Season/Series 02, Trickster Gabriel, gabriel's apartment, puppet master gabriel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7323127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After meeting Sam and Dean Gabriel decides to try to stop the apocalypse before it starts, and then he gets in over his head when Sam turns out to be way more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

The argument with Dean in front of Crawford hall was realer then it should have been. Sure it was part of the plan but tensions were still too high after everything the trickster had done to mess with them.

Sam could feel the eyes on the back of his neck, the shadowed figure in the second story window. At least the plan was working. He’d be able to talk to Dean after they’d finished this, and sort everything out.

Sam rolled his eye, only partially for show and turned to head back to the room they had rented. Bobby would be waiting there and together they’d make their way back to surprise the trickster, once Dean had played up getting bored and storming in. 

He’d made it two blocks before a sound like shuffling papers or fluttering wings had the trickster popping into existence directly in his path. 

Sam opened his mouth to call out or curse or something but before he could make a sound He’d snapped his fingers. Sam’s voice cut off in his throat and suddenly he couldn’t move. He strained against the spell but it was wrapped around his joints as if the air itself had turned to stone. He was lucky he could still breath. 

The trickster considered him and pursed his lips.

Sam met his eyes and forced himself to calm down, analyze the situation, look for a way out. He wouldn’t do anyone any good if he panicked now. 

The trickster sighed and shook his head. He snapped his fingers and Sam’s eyes widened as a copy of himself appeared in the shadow of the building to his right. He couldn’t get a great look at it since he couldn’t turn his head but this was the work of the trickster it was probably an exact replica. 

Shit, this wasn’t good. Dean thought he had this whole thing figured out, and Bobby… Would Bobby be able to see the difference? They hadn’t spent a lot of time together since Sam was a kid and now…. Shit. Sam thought desperately, trying to come up with a sign a signal, something to worn them. 

Then the trickster touched his forehead. Sam lost himself in the flood of memories in real life technicolor. Getting off a bus to go to his first day of middle school. Sitting in a college library at the tender age of 14 looking up legends about Babba Yagga. Hiding the entry essay to stanford in among his other school work and panicking when he was sure Dean had gone through his stuff. Getting into the knock-down-drag-out fight with their dad before he left. How Dean had given him a hug when he’d dropped him off at the bus station, ruffling his hair like he hadn’t since he was twelve. Meeting Jess in a study group, watching as she tucked back her hair, his mouth going dry. Hearing an intruder in the middle of the night, only to learn it was his brother. Finding their Dad dead in the hospital basement.   

Sam gasped in a breath through the binding as he came back to himself. The trickster had moved off, pressing the same two fingers to his copy. The copy blinked, then set it’s shoulders in the way Sam always did. It looked down at the Trickster.

The Trickster waved a hand, “Go on,” and the copy nodded, trotting off in the way Sam had been headed. Sam’s heart sank. He had to assume the copy had his memories and mannerisms now. If it would have been hard before it would be next to impossible for Dean to realize what had happened now.

The Trickster turned back to Sam. “Now,” he mused, “What should I do with you?”

This was it. This was the moment the Trickster killed him. Sam refused to close his eyes. He’d face his death with all the dignity allowed to him. 

The trickster sighed and shook his head, then snapped his fingers. Around Sam the world went black.

 


	2. Chapter 2

  
  


It took Sam a few minutes to realize that it was the dark of a night without lights on rather than the dark of death. His eyes were taking a while to adjust and he couldn’t hear a thing over the pulsing of his own heart in his ears.

Sam held his breath, counted to five and then let it out, repeating the exercise until his pulse calmed. His hands were bound behind him, and it felt like his ankles were tied together. The surface under him was hard, but smooth; a wood floor rather than concrete. He couldn’t feel the gun that should have been in the back of his pants or the knife that should have been in his boot, but his wallet was still stuffed into his back pocket so at least there was that. Even better the binding spell was no longer in place, so even though he was tied up he had a good chance to escape, assuming he didn’t get hit with anything else before he got the chance.

As his eyes adjusted, the shape of the room slowly filled out around him. It wasn’t a large space, but wasn’t small either, just a room. There was a door in the far wall, and the only light was a faint grey thing slipping through the cracks around it. There were a series of cabinets along the walls, but other than that the room seemed to be unfinished and undecorated. 

Sam rolled over until he could sit up and test the restraints. It was definitely rope around his ankles but around his wrists were handcuffs. With a bit of maneuvering he slipped his hands down under his feet until they were in front of him.

Sam tried to be as quiet as he could while he worked himself free. He had to get back to Dean, had to warn him, but dieing in the process wouldn’t do anyone any good. 

It seemed like the Trickster had only bothered to remove his weapons because the lockpicks in the lining of his wallet were still there as were all his fake IDs. His cell wasn’t getting a signal, but it still had a full battery and it looked like he hadn’t lost any time, or not enough to really matter.

According to the plan they’d worked up, Dean wouldn’t get fed up and go in without them for two hours, by then it would be full dark and any last people who worked in the building would have cleared out. That meant Sam had just about an hour and a half before everything went pear shaped. 

Sam paused by the door, listening, but couldn’t hear any signs of life. Testing the knob he found it wasn’t even locked, but that was where his luck ended.

He was in an apartment. A nice apartment too, high-end furniture filled the living room and the kitchen was stocked with name brand appliances. Sure the style wasn’t what he’d have chosen, but then, he’d stayed in hotels that were weirder. There was a bathroom with a tub big enough for four people and a bedroom with an equally big bed. The fridge was stocked with a mixture of fresh fruit and pastries. The lights and water worked when he tried them, and the enormous TV had all the premium channels. There was even a dog, a little white and brown terrier mix sleeping on the couch. He hadn’t even flicked an ear when Sam eased around him. 

Sam had woken up in a library. Books so old Sam could hardly believe they hadn’t fallen apart, all tucked into glass-doored cabinets. A part of Sam couldn’t wait to get his hands on them, but he had to get a message to Dean first.

Except there wasn’t a door. Well there were doors to the bedroom and the bathroom, but there was no way out. Even the windows were more like wall lamps. They couldn’t open, couldn’t be broken as much as he tried, and there didn’t seem to be anything on the other side of them.

Eventually Sam flopped down on the couch. He was starting to get hungry but he wasn’t sure he trusted the food in the fridge. He’d heard too many stories about people eating things they shouldn’t and getting trapped. 

As if he wasn’t trapped already. The apartment was a very comfortable cage. Sam wondered how long it would take for the Trickster to check in on him.

The dog shuffled over until he could prop his head on Sam’s leg and drool all over his lap. Sam absentmindedly scratched behind the dog's ears. The jingling of metal alerted him to the animal’s collar. Sam checked the tags.

“Max huh? So Max, what’s your master got planned for me?” 

The dog didn’t answer, just shoved his head back under Sam’s hand.

  
  


 


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel could feel his Sam doll coming closer, with the older hunter. He made the offer to Dean and Dean turned him down. Gabriel had known he would, but he had hoped anyway. It would have made the whole situation a lot simpler.

Dean sprung the trap and Gabriel let them think Dean had killed him. He gave himself four out of five for the death scene. It could have been more bloody, but they did have to keep the PG rating after all.

He watched the hunters drive off without even trying to salt and burn him, sloppy work all around, but he wasn’t going to encourage his doll to give them pointers. He wasn’t there to teach them how to hunt him better. After cleaning up the mess they had left, he checked in on them again, following them for several hours until they checked into a motel near dawn a state and a half away.

Gebriel Let them get some sleep and Flew back to his apartment, appearing above his bed and snuggling into it, content with a job well done.

Try to start the apocalypse on his watch, Ha. Not going to happen. 

  
  


~~*~~*~~*~~

  
  


Sam had fallen asleep on the couch. He couldn’t help it. He’d had a long day and He hadn’t been sleeping what with the prank war going on and trying to figure out what they were hunting. Plus there wasn’t anything exciting to keep him awake. 

When the light pouring in through the fake windows started to lighten he grunted and stretched. The dog, Max, licked at his face until Sam pushed him off and stumbled into the kitchen. There was a bag of kibble in one of the cupboards and dog bowls by the side of the fridge so Sam refilled them while waiting for the coffeepot to fill up. Screw not eating and drinking, he needed his coffee. Besides, this smelled like the good stuff.

He’d found the mugs the day before during his exploration so he didn’t have to make a mess to find them now. He got one down and stared at the coffeepot mournfully until it started to fill up.

“Mhhhh, coffee?” 

Sam tilted his head enough to see who had spoken and froze on the spot as the Trickster, took the mug in his hands, tried to drink from it, and only when that failed, opened his eyes. He scowled at the mug, then switched it out with the coffeepot at drank straight from that, despite the temperature. 

The rush of adrenaline had Sam fully awake and desperately trying to think up something to do next. Max looked up from his bowl and bounced over to the Trickster, hopping up on putting his paws on the tricksters knees until the man bent enough to ruffle his ears. 

The Trickster finally looked up, his eyes bright. Their eyes met and it was his turn to freeze.

Sam desperately wanted a weapon, but there was nothing. Everything he’d had on him had been taken and there was nothing in the apartment. Well there might have been something in the books, but that wasn’t exactly likely.

The Trickster finally took a breath, then ran a hand over his face, and back through his hair.

“Right, you’re here.”

Sam dove for the nearest heavy object, which happened to be a pan on the stove, brandishing it in a desperate attempt at self-defence.

“Really?” the Trickster lifted an eyebrow. “You think I’d bring you into my home just to kill you? No wonder they call you the smart one Sammy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Sam snapped back on reflex. “Dean will find me.”

“And what? Kill me for kidnapping you? Weren’t you planning on killing me anyway? Not a great argument for letting you go.” the Trickster took another gulp of coffee, then swapped the pot for the now full mug. Sam backed up a few steps, still brandishing the pan.

The Trickster rolled his eyes and opened the fridge, pulling out eggs and bacon. Sam was mostly sure those hadn’t been in there when he’d checked it last night, but it wasn’t like that was his biggest concern at the moment. The Trickster looked around then waved a hand at Sam. It took a minute but Sam realized he was asking for the pan.

Sam was reluctant to give up his only weapon, even if it wouldn’t do any good. The Trickster made a put upon face and snapped his fingers. Another identical pan appeared on the stove. 

“I will get out of here!” Sam’s voice was confident even if he knew it was unlikely to work out in his favor. He was completely in the trickster’s power. The slightest whim and he’d be dead. “Dean will find me, and we will kill you.”

The Trickster looked up from where he was cracking eggs and smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“That sounds like a great plan, except for the whole, he doesn’t know you’re missing thing.”

Sam clenched his jaw. “That’s not, no,” he shook his head.

The Trickster waved a hand at the TV which obediently turned on. Instead of satellite TV though, it was Dean. Dean from the passenger seat of the Impala humming along to the radio. He glanced sideways and smiled when he saw Sam watching, except it wasn’t Sam watching because he was here in this apartment with the Trickster. 

It was then that Sam remembered the copy. 

He slumped into the couch and stared at the screen. A minute later the Trickster came and sat down at the other end of the couch. The scrambled eggs he had smelled amazing, especially since Sam hadn’t eaten in over twelve hours. Then a voice that sounded like his own spoke from the TV and he forgot all about food.

“All right, all right. Calm down, calm down. Tell us what happened.”

There was a woman talking about her husband, she’d been in an accident, there was a man chasing her. It was night wherever Dean and the copy was. Just another dark highway, like any hundreds of others in the US. Just a woman with bad luck, except on the TV the woman was transparent.

“She’s a ghost,” Sam said.

“Yep,” the Trickster popped the P, “That is your job after all.”

“But do they know? Does Dean know? We have to warn him.”

The Trickster just shrugged, “Don’t know, keep watching, maybe they’ll figure it out.” He shoved the last bite of egg in his mouth and got up, wandering back to the kitchen. 

Sam wanted to scream at him, wanted to stab him and force him to bring him back to his brother. It only reminded Sam that he had no power here. There was nothing he could do but keep watching like the Trickster said, and prey his brother stayed safe.

“Did he look like he lost a fight with a lawn mower?” Dean asked, and the woman asked how he knew. Dean looked at the TV and Sam couldn’t help feeling like he was looking at him.

 


	4. Chapter 4

  
  


Gabriel felt Sam’s prayer and closed his eyes, in the middle of putting the plate in the dishwasher. He could have just snapped it clean, but he needed to be doing something with his hands right then. It was strong. Sam loved his brother. They hadn’t really shown it when he was pulling thouse pranks on them, but that thought was as pure as any he’d heard in centuries.

It was hard not to blow his cover, and answer it. He bit his lip, and looked over his shoulder. The doll was doing it’s job and interfering would only make Dean suspicious, but maybe…. He could take a peek into the doll’s mind without giving himself away.

Gabriel turned, leaning on the counter and looking over at the screen. A silent command created a second layer of information that only he could see. The doll at least, knew the girl was a ghost. He and Dean had worked out a plan. They still needed to find the bones, but other then that this was a standard hunt. No need for deviation.

That was good, the doll could handle that no problem. 

Gabriel’s eyes drifted to Sam sitting on the edge of the seat. He’d probably be there all day, watching to make sure his brother was alright.

Maybe that was a good thing. 

He had zapped Sam to his apartment just to put him somewhere that he knew Lucifer and the demons couldn’t get to him. Actually dealing with having Sam in his life and his apartment wasn’t something he had factored in.

This was going be interesting.

  
  


~~*~~*~~*~~

  
  


By the end of the day, or night for Dean and his copy, Sam was exhausted. They had managed to salt and burn the first ghost and it turned out they knew the woman was a ghost all along as well. She had been cremated, but they’d managed to show her the truth and she’d passed on without too much of a struggle.

The trickster had puttered around the apartment through it all. He’d read in one of the other chairs, or cook or watch things on a laptop laughing at whatever was on the screen. It picked at Sam, that he could be so casual with Sam sitting there watching his brother fight off the creatures of the night.

With his nerves stripped raw and fatigue eating at him Sam made a decision. 

There was no way he was going to be able to sleep with the Trickster in the next room and he’d only get weaker if he didn’t take care of himself. Better to have the inevitable confrontation now. At the very least, if the Trickster did kill him, Dean might realize it. He couldn’t be used as a bargaining chip.

Sam pushed himself to his feet, stepping over the dog to stand over the Trickster’s chair.

“Well?”

The shorter man looked up from his book, “Well what, Samsquash?”

“What do you want with me? Why are you keeping me around? Is this another kind of sick entertainment for you? Is there a lesson I’m not getting here? What? Because I refuse to be a pawn. I’m not going to play whatever game you’ve got set up, so whatever you’re going to do, just do it already.” His fists were clenched and there was a muscle pulsing in his jaw.

The trickster snapped his book shut. “Wow, maybe you do need to be taught a lesson if you think this is all about you.”

“Who then? Dean? Seems to me you went out of your way to make sure he didn’t notice a thing, and I don’t see anyone else around here.”

“Well then clearly you haven’t actually looked around. You think I couldn’t have dropped you on a desert island or in a time loop or maybe a children's book. Tell me Sam do you like green eggs and ham?”

“Right, and get stuck here, I’m not dumb enough to eat something conjured up by Trickstar magic.”

The Trickster threw up his hands and rolled his eye. “Is that seriously all I am to you? Just another monster to be hunted? You know I’d gotten the impression that you had a little bit more perspective than daddy’s little soldier, but I guess I was wrong.”

A flare of anger burst up and Sam saw red, “don’t talk about my family like that.”

“Ohh, is the big bad hunter coming to get me? Because that worked out so well last time. What are you going to do, stab me with another stick?” Gabriel stood, letting cold and light roll off him. His eyes glowed and when he spoke it rumbled in the air. “I am Loki, Liesmith, Father of Monsters and Harbinger of Ragnarok. You say you won't be a pawn, but you’ve been one since that demon put his blood in his veins. If you were smart, you wouldn’t tempt me to take you off the board permanently.”

Sam had reflexively taken a step back. Facing down a god wasn’t something even hunters did lightly and he was starting to realize that he was in a lot deeper than he thought. There was one question that forced itself to the surface.

“So why get involved at all?”

Loki’s shoulders went back, and his expression closed off. 

“I have my reasons and they are none of your business.”

The demi-god stood and pushed past Sam, slamming the door to the bedroom. Sam looked at the door and wanted to scream.  He hated not knowing things, hated being trapped here without any options. He couldn't fight he couldn’t talk to anyone but his captor. He was a new age princess in a tower and God wouldn’t Dean have fun with that image.

If he’d had anything in his hands he would have thrown it at the door. Instead he clenched and unclenched his fists, turning away then back again. Finally he stomped to the other end of the apartment. It wasn’t nearly far enough, so he opened the library door and slammed it behind him like Loki had done.

At least he knew who the Trickster was now, that gave him some amount of insight. The fact that all he knew about the god scared the hell out of him wasn’t exactly encouraging, but still.

He needed to do something. He needed to make a plan.

He looked at all the old books tucked neatly into the shelves around him. Pulling out one at random he let it fall open to the first page and started searching for anything he could use to his advantage.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Gabriel heard another door slam and guessed Sam had retreated to the library. Lying face down on his bed he shoved his head into the mound of pillows and screamed. Sam knew exactly how to get under his skin, push all his buttons and he instinctively pushed back. Who was this little insect of a human to question him? He should be groveling at his feet. Except Sam was something else, he had a destiny as either the Boy King or maybe, possibly, a story of Lucifer retold. A brother, loved and forgiven.

Time was flexible. That path hadn’t been completely shut off to him, not yet.

A part of him hated this, keeping Sam trapped, but what else could he do. It wasn’t like Sam would believe he was an angel trying to stop the apocalypse. He hardly believed it himself. 

Gabriel pulled in his emotions, and got himself back under control. Time. He had to give Sam time, and hope Dean wouldn’t screw things up in the meantime. With an effort of will he spread his wings and searched for the doll. 

Appearing, invisible, he found the doll and Dean in a bar. Dean was hustling pool while the doll talked to the barkeeper about places to stay in the area. All the signs pointed to them hanging out for the next few hours if not the next few days, while searching for the next hunt.

Good, all according to plan. With that Gabriel opened his wings again and went in search of a demon.

  
  


~~*~~*~~*~~

 

Nothing.

Well no, not nothing, the books were filled with interesting things. Diary’s from eighteenth century monks, shipping records from second dynasty China, poetry written by Viking shield maidens. All of it was fascinating and Sam would have gladly read every book many times over if he wasn’t focused on his prison and escape. To that end, there was nothing useful.

Hours later he opened the library door and poked his head into the main room of the apartment. Max looked up from bed, but there was no sign of Loki. 

Sam had a crick in his neck. He was hungry and thirsty and tired. He was carrying a low level of tension in his shoulders, worry about his brother. If he kept on like this he wasn’t going to last and he knew it. He looked at the kitchen, then at the TV.  The TV was still showing Dean from the copy’s point of view, thought at some point the sound had been turned down. They were in a motel room now; the copy typing away, while Dean slept.

Sam wondered briefly if the copy needed to sleep, then brushed the thought aside. Whether it did or not, he needed sleep, and food. 

Figuring that Loki wasn’t going to kill him if he hadn’t already, he raided the fridge for beer and sandwich fixings. He settled on the couch with his load and let his mind drift.


	6. Chapter 6

It was almost a week before Dean and the copy caught a new case. Sam spent the time watching them, making color commentary about how unlike him the copy actually was, and playing with Max. 

The dog apparently never had to go outside, but he did like food and turned out to know several tricks when bribed with bacon. The fridge would produce anything he wanted with a little coaxing so he was well stocked. 

Loki came and went as he pleased, appearing and disappearing at will. They only talked to each other when necessary and both of them seemed inclined to keep things brief.

It wasn’t like Sam didn’t appreciate the vacation, he just hadn’t been the one to choose it.

Then Dean caught wind of a werewolf in San Francisco.

Sam camped out on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a sixpack, and prayed it would all turn out alright. 

 

The moment they spoke to Madison, Sam felt his heart skip a beat. She was attractive, but it was more then that. She was intelligent and she was strong, even in the face of her boss’s death. Before he’d met Jess, Sam’d had fantasies where he had his own practice and a beautiful paralegal like her. He wondered what he would have done if he was there. It wasn’t like the copy was doing anything about the attraction, if it even felt anything.

Further investigation pointed them right back at her too. Then Dean suggested one of them stay with her, for her own protection of course. Sam made a few disparaging comments at the screen, that he never would have said out loud if he was actually there.

Luckily Dean couldn’t win a game of rock paper scissors to save his life, even against a doll. Or maybe not so luckily since Dean would be out there alone with a potential werewolf and Sam couldn’t even enjoy the fringe benefits.

Sam started to drift off as the night wore on. The distance the TV put between him and the action made it all unreal in a weird kind of way, like it was all staged. Would he have done the same things? Would he have turned away, like the copy did? Ignored her lingering looks? When Dean wasn’t around, the copy almost seemed listless like a dog who’s master had left him home during the day. 

Did he really act like that? Dean hadn’t noticed anything after all. Bobby hadn’t noticed anything. There wasn’t anyone else who knew him well enough to realize. Plenty of acquaintances already thought they were dangerously codependent, and that was the few who didn’t think they were sleeping together. Moping over the fact that Dean hadn’t come to save him yet just hammered the point home. 

Sam sank deeper into the couch. Was this his life now? It was like a terrible parody of a bad lifetime movie. Seeing his life from the outside and knowing how little he actually mattered. Well no, that wasn’t quite right. If he’d just vanished then Dean would have freaked, but knowing that Dean could replace him so easily, that hurt. 

On the screen, there came a sound from the bedroom. The girl, Madison, had gone to bed an hour or so previously and the copy had just been sitting in the dark, eyes, darting between the door and the street outside the window. A second round of grunts and scrapes made the copy stand up.

“Madison?” it asked.

A low growl was the only answer. The view shifted and Sam imagined the copy was reaching for his gun. Elbowing the door open got the beast’s attention. The wolf was half transformed, scrambling at the window, it’s back paws still tangled in the robe Madison had gone to bed in.

They had been wrong. Madison wasn’t the target, she was the wolf, probably subconsciously going after those men who had wronged her. The bang rang out, just as Sam finished the thought. The copy had shot her, and as he watched she fell, one hand catching briefly on the window. Her claws caught on the glass, leaving little scratches. Then she was dead, the silver doing it’s work.

There was a lump in Sam’s throat. He could barely focus. When the copy looked down and started typing out Dean’s number on his phone, Sam let out a broken scream. There was a pillow next to him and without thought he threw it at the screen. It flopped onto the carpet instead.

Max looked up from where he was curled in the arm chair, then put his head down again. Even the dog didn’t think anything of him. Then Dean picked up the other end of the call.

“Trouble?”

“Case solved. Madison was the wolf. I took care of it,” the copy said.

“You okay?”

“Yeah I got the jump on her.”

“Damn, she was hot too. Okay, I’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen. Good job.” Dean hung up.

Good job, Dean had said. It was a girl’s life and other lives too if she’d been allowed to get out and whoever she saw. Sam wouldn’t have been able to just pull the trigger like that, but the doll hadn’t even thought about it. He hadn’t gotten distracted, hadn’t fallen asleep.

Sam felt the tears and only then realized he was crying. He had already been replaced. Dean needed the doll way more than he needed Sam. Maybe the doll wouldn’t screw up. Maybe it wouldn’t fight over the music and complain about eating burgers day after day. The Doll could properly watch Dean’s back, and if it got hurt or killed, Loki could just snap up another one.

Sam rolled over on the couch, shoving his face into the cushions and trying to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. It wasn’t all that hard considering. It wasn’t like there was anything outside those rooms. No one to interrupt his melancholy. 

On the screen Dean picked up Sam and they made their exit, before the cops learned what had happened. The doll was driving with Dean passed out in the back, soft rock on the radio. It should have been soothing, but the familiar songs and the sound of the impala’s tires on the road were only a constant reminder that he wasn’t the one in the car.


	7. Chapter 7

 

The trouble was that Azazel had once been an angel, fallen of course since he’d sided with Lucifer, but still more powerful than the average demon. John Winchester had done an admirable job in tracking Azazel’s movements on earth, but it wasn’t enough.

Gabriel drifted through the mist between realities.  As Loki he was only so powerful, and he wasn’t ready to reveal himself yet. If the Demon knew an angel was after him, and an archangel at that, then all the plans would get thrown out the window.

There was nothing for it.

Gabriel reached into the wellspring of his magic and wove a gossamer thin thread. He gave the thread to a mechanical dragonfly-spider of his own creation and cast it out into the void. It would weave a web, not to catch Azazel, but to alert Gabriel when and where he passed through the veil.

With nothing else he could do, Gabriel returned to his apartment.

The moment he entered the pocket dimension, his breath caught in his chest.

Depression was saturating the walls like a wine stain, deep blue and sticky. The windows were dark, despite the fact that it should have been winding into afternoon by now. The TV had turned itself off, leaving a dull static whine to overlay the creaking of an empty house that didn’t exist beyond the walls. Somewhere in the distance water slowly dripped from a leaky faucet, and an air conditioner rattled on and off. The air smelled stale and filled with dust. All of which should have been impossible.

Sam was more powerful than he’d realized.

Sam had fallen asleep, but it was clearly fitful. The young man was curled up on the couch, somehow managing to look small with his hands curled up by his lips and purple smudges under his eyes. His lips were bitten red and Gabriel knew he shouldn’t think it was cute, but the thought crept in anyways.

He brushed the hair from Sam’s eyes, and caught an echo of his dream. It was disjointed, but clearly not pleasant.

“Damn, I never should have left you alone.” Gabriel ran a hand over his face.

This wasn’t working, none of it. He hadn’t thought this through.

  
  


Sam whimpered in his sleep and Gabriel gently shook his shoulder until his eyes fluttered open.

“Hey there Sammy, wake up time.”

Sam shoved his face into the pillow and muttered, “don’t call me Sammy,” seemingly by reflex.

“Whatever you say Sambo, as long as you get up and come have breakfast with me.”

Sam didn’t seem inclined to move, so Gabriel started poking him in the shoulder again.

“Sam, Saaaaaaammmmm, Sammich, Samshine. Come on Sam-I-am, I’m not leaving Samamich.”

Sam moved enough to shove Gabriel’s hand away, and glare at him with one sleep filled eye.

“What do you want?”

“Breakfast, with you. Come on, up you get. I’ll even provide coffee.” It took a bit of superhuman strength, but he managed to get Sam into a sitting position.

“Why,” Sam looked down at his hands, and where Gabriel’s hand was wrapped around his own. “Why did you come back?”

“Well maybe because this is my apartment? But also because I missed you and I ah, may need your help.”

Sam snorted, “Right.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, “Yes I can see that you threw a huge pity party while I was gone, good for you.Now moping time is over, so up you get.”

Another burst of super strength got Sam to his feet. He spun the winchester around and pushed him towards the bathroom. “Go shower, brush your teeth, do all those necessary human things. I will have coffee ready when you’re done.”

Sam didn’t move.

“Oh for heaven's sake. Do I need to go in there with you? Hold your hand and make sure you scrub behind your ears?”

Sam made a face that was trying to be a pout, but was mostly still mopey. “No.”

Ah the stubborn defiance of little brothers everywhere. Gabriel would know, he’d invented it. Sam dragged his feet all the way to the bathroom, and shut the door harder than was necessary. Gabriel let out a puff of breath and went to dig around in the fridge. He could snap up anything he wanted of course, but cooking was surprisingly soothing. Plus he had the feeling Sam would be more likely to eat the food if he saw what went into it.

  


~~*~~*~~*~~

 

As much as he hated to admit it, Loki had been right. A long hot shower had made him feel better to a degree. There was still an empty pit in his gut, but moving didn’t feel like such a chore, when he wrapped a fluffy robe around himself and reentered the apartment.

Loki had been busy. Coffee and Orange juice sat on the table beside sliced apples, and a plate of bacon and sausage. A stack of toast was accompanied by four different flavors of jam and peanut butter just to be sure. At the stove Loki was carefully mixing blueberries into a bowl of pancake mix.

Sam lowered himself onto a stool. Without prompting Loki flipped the first two pancakes onto a plate and dropped it in front of him. He pushed the toast in his direction as well, and made a point of putting an empty cup by his right hand. The silent, eat or else, was perfectly clear.

So, Sam ate.

Once he started he realized how hungry he was. Loki refilled his plate until Sam couldn’t manage another bite and had to push it away. Loki was sipping a coffee drink with a mountain of whipped cream on top, watching him over his cup.

The silence stretched.

“I didn’t think you were coming back.”

Loki met his eyes. “No. I’ll never just abandon you like that.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“I promise. I know what it’s like. I know what you’re feeling now, and I know it royally sucks.”

“Right because a god has so much to relate to.”

“How about a crappy family?” Loki kept his voice low, “how about brothers who would never stop fighting? A father who cared more about his kingdom then his family? Never being able to live up to those perfect siblings. Never knowing where you fit, and never being able to live down every little mistake, because perfection is par for the course for everyone else.” Loki shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Sorry. I’m not trying to bring you down any more. I just…. I’m trying to fix things. There you were and I thought maybe if I could head things off….”

Their previous conversation ran through Sam’s mind. Loki had never answered his question.

“Why am I here? Why me? Wouldn’t it have been easier to grab Dean if you needed a hunter?” Except Sam had the sinking feeling he knew the answer to that question.

This time Loki didn’t get offended. He studied Sam. After a minute he put his cup down, running a finger around the rim, to collect the whipped cream.

“How much do you know about the demon you’re hunting?”

Sam sat back in his seat. “Not much. He has yellow eyes. He’s strong enough to resist holy water. He’s old, and powerful, we know that much.”

“Wow, understatement of the century. His name is Azazel, and the reason he’s so powerful is because he’s not the typical demon. He started out as an Angel, and fell with Lucifer.” Loki stuck the whip cream in his mouth, licking it off his finger in a way that made Sam have to look away.

“Right, Lucifer….” Sam could feel his eyebrow raise.

“What, you don’t believe in angels? The Devil? Heaven and Hell? It may not be the oldest creation story out there but it’s certainly widespread.”

“I, I don’t know what I believe. I mean I believe in God, I pray, but after all I’ve seen…. It’s always seemed more metaphorical.” The dark that had settled in him, threatened to rise up again. When Loki spoke Sam had to focus on his words.

“Well, putting aside the issue of God because that is a whole kettle of fish all by itself, the rest of it, absolutely real. Azazel is trying to free Lucifer and kick off the apocalypse. He seems to be going about it in a kind of weird way, but then he’s a demon, what else can you expect.”

Sam thought about the demon blood in his veins.  About going darkside, and his father's warning to Dean, how he’d have to kill him if he couldn’t save him.

“So I’m going to become the antichrist?” This time Sam didn’t even try to fight off the dark mood.

“Hey no. Wait a second, I didn’t say that.” Loki protested. “He’s using you, to try to end the world, but it’s not set in stone. That’s why I grabbed you okay? Because if they can’t get to you then their plans are kind of sunk. No one else gets to end the world, that’s my job.”

“Because you’re Loki?” His voice came out smaller than intended.

“Ah, yeah Loki right, that’s exactly it.” He didn’t sound so sure any more, but Sam was too tired to try to dig into it.

It didn’t seem fair that he was still so tired. He hadn’t done anything. But there wasn’t a lot he could do about it.

“Fine, so you’re trying to stop him. Then you’ll let me go?”

“Yes, I promise.” This time Loki met his eyes. Sam found himself believing it even if he knew he shouldn’t.

“Then what’s the next step?”

“Find him. I’ve got alarm spells up. When he comes back to earth, I’ll know it.”

Sam nodded slowly, “okay.”

Loki reached across and tucked some loose hair behind Sam’s ear. “Why don’t you get some rest. Take the bed. You look exhausted.”

Sam nodded and retreated to the bedroom. As he slid between the sheets he couldn’t help feeling comforted by the fact that he could smell Loki on the pillow.

  


~~*~~*~~*~~

  


Gabriel let Sam fall asleep, then crept into the room. Sam was exhausted and the looming depression wasn’t helping. He’d been pushing himself for long enough that a normal person would have broken down by now. If Azazel did manage to start the apocalypse he wasn’t going to have a hard time pushing Sam, and likely Dean as well, over the edge.

He sent out a trickle of power keeping the bad dreams at bay and checking Sam over for any physical injuries.

Sam kept himself in shape, that much was clear. As if his height and broad shoulders weren’t enough, he had muscles layered on top of muscles, with just a hint of coltish litheness left in his young frame. There were scars of course, and aches, old bruises that had never gotten tended properly. Gabriel forced himself to stop ogling the kid and actually help him, healing what he could and removing the pain from the rest.

That was the easy part. Even just skimming the surface Gabriel could tell Sam had more issues that he wasn’t facing. Sure he had his brother, and that surrogate father figure, but when was the last time he’d been close to someone. When was the last time he’d let someone get close enough to hold him? To be the strong one? Too long.

Gabriel pushed back the blanket and slid into the bed beside Sam. He traced a hand up the hunters back. There was space between them, but Sam would know he was there, would know he wasn’t alone. Hopefully that would be enough for now.


End file.
